


Prada

by happilyappled



Series: Prada the Cat [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilyappled/pseuds/happilyappled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard has lived on his own for almost twenty years and has always enjoyed it, but he's close to celebrating fifty years old and the nights are growing colder each year. A companion would be kind of welcome, so that's why he's getting a <i>cat.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Prada

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Cristy, Gee, Leah, and Sylvia <3
> 
> [Click here](http://www.mediafire.com/download/fdd5r5hgp65gg50) to download the full series in PDF format :)

Gerard opens the front door and there’s a guy standing on his doorstep, peeking at him over the cardboard box in his arms. He’s smiling and Gerard thinks to himself that he looks kind of pretty, but Gerard isn’t looking for a person. He isn’t really used to people. 

He has lived on his own for over twenty years and has always enjoyed it. There’s no one to question his habits or routines, no one to talk to him when he’s painting and doesn’t want to be bothered, just no one to piss him off if he needs to stay up late one night and sleep in the next morning.

Now that he was fired, maybe he could really use some company. He’s almost fifty years old and the nights are growing colder each week, his bones are starting to creak almost every time he moves and that’s one horrible sound to hear when he’s alone. A companion would be kind of welcome, to sit silently by him when the fire’s crackling in the living room and when he’s reading a book or listening to opera, but he has never loved anyone enough to share a house. He kept running away from everyone thinking he was better off alone, but now there’s nothing he wants more than not being alone.

That’s why he’s getting a cat. Cats are very independent and pretty much low maintenance; maybe they like to cuddle at times, but keep their distance most of the time and there isn’t much Gerard has to do for a cat. Just knowing that the cat will be there, just listening to the soft paws against the floor or the meowing or even the purring, that will be enough to know that he really isn’t alone. That should do it.

“Hey, I’m Frank. And I brought you my cat, like Mikey–” Gerard gestures for the box with an absentminded hum, not bothering to make small talk right now. He doesn’t see the point of it. All he needs to know is that his little brother is friends with Frank and knew he had a cat he needed to get rid of. According to what Mikey had said, the cat belonged to Frank’s mother, who passed away recently, and he can’t really take care of it because he’s allergic. And Gerard wanted a cat, and this one is old and already trained, so it should be easier for them to adapt to each other.

As he hands the box to Gerard, Frank asks if he can come and check in on the cat sometimes. He says that he lives nearby and even though he prefers dogs, he doesn’t want to let his mother’s cat go without any follow up. Gerard promises him that he’ll take great care of the cat, but the guy insists and Gerard ends up agreeing just to make him shut up and leave. Then he adds, “Just don’t come before six p.m. or after eight. I won’t answer the door then.”

The guy snorts. “You really are a loner, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Gerard responds, offended by the question. He lives alone because he wants to, because people are possessive and take up too much space. He’s an artist and people aren’t really something he appreciates, so he just wants Frank to leave. “Thanks for bringing me the cat.”

“Before I go,” Frank says as Gerard is taking a step back to close the door. He huffs and stops, widening his eyes to listen to whatever the guy is going to say. He sneezes and apologizes first, but Gerard doesn’t even bother to say anything. When the guy speaks again, his voice is nasalized. “Look, there’s a list of things in the box, they were my mother’s basic rules to take care of the cat. I just– I hope they’re not too much trouble, but if you’re going to keep Prada–”

“Don’t worry. I can read instructions,” Gerard says coldly, cocking his hip to the side and waiting in case the guy wants to say anything else. When he doesn’t, Gerard tells him goodbye and keeps waiting. Frank nods with a closed expression and leaves with only a muttered goodbye, thankfully.

The first days are really difficult. Gerard has no idea what a cat really needs. He provides food, a litter box and cuddles after dinner, but is that really it? Mikey has a cat, but he’s not picking up his phone, and then Gerard remembers that he went on a family trip to visit his wife’s European relatives and took his two dogs and one cat with them. And who else could he ask for advice? His father always hated cats, and his mother and grandmother can’t answer his questions anymore, not even through his night prayers, so he’s basically at a loss.

Sunday through Tuesday are particularly hard days, especially when Gerard is sitting by the fireplace. He sits there straight after lunch because, being it wintertime, it’s too cold to be anywhere else in the house. He doesn’t feel like painting when it’s so cold, his wrists start hurting and his head starts pounding too fast, so he just sits there with a book. He’s browsing through the words but not really understanding what they say, especially because the cat keeps distracting him with its meows. It’s annoying and Gerard is starting to regret his choice.

By Wednesday, the same thing happens. This time Gerard is in the kitchen. He went grocery shopping online yesterday and the delivery truck arrived by sunset. It’s early, but it’s winter and it’s cold, and the fire burning in the living room hasn’t really reached the kitchen, so Gerard is shaking from the cold while storing every item away in the cupboards when the cat starts rubbing against his calves and meowing pitifully.

_Prada, not again._

  
>

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he asks, looking down at his feet. His pants have grey hairs everywhere from all the rubbing and the long fur Prada’s shedding. Gerard remembers his grandmother’s Persian cat and how it shed hair everywhere, but this one in particular looks like a lion. It’s beautiful to see, but it’s also annoying him with so much meowing by the door.

Gerard catches a glimpse of the box Frank brought the cat in and he remembers something about instructions, but he never really found a list of anything. He goes to check the box again and very well, there it is. A piece of paper folded in two plastered with duct tape to one of the box lids. Gerard picks it up and reads what’s in it.

_NEVER move the litter box or Prada will get lost._  
_Prada likes to sleep on her old rug._  
_Only feed her canned food. Preferably beef or poultry; NO seafood._  
_Let her out before sunset and let her back in after a couple of hours._  
_If there’s a fireplace, it’s hers!_

“That makes sense,” he mutters to himself, staring down from the paper to the cat sitting right in front of him. It looks like it’s studying Gerard, those penetrating green eyes looking for the most tender part of him to break into, and he doesn’t dare to stare back. He walks towards the door to his backyard instead and the cat meows like it’s happy, getting up and strolling past him to get outside.

Gerard sighs. It was just too easy to be true.

Gerard rereads the last rule and realizes he has, in fact, noticed this. He has walked in to the living room more than once to find the cat curling up on his carpet if he has the fire burning in the living room, when Prada usually prefers more comfortable surfaces.

What he doesn’t quite understand is the second rule. He guesses that the ‘old rug’ is the one that came in the box, the ragged piece of red fabric left in it after the cat jumped out of the box the first day. Gerard didn’t give it much thought and left it in there, but that explains why he has found Prada lying in the box more than once. He thought it was related to the fact that the house is a new place for this cat, but if it’s for the rug it makes more sense. However, that doesn’t explain why he has woken up at times with the cat sleeping on the pillow next to his.

He has found the cat lying there every morning since Sunday, just staring at him even though Gerard is sure he left it sleeping in the living room the previous night. However, the weirdest aspect of this new relationship is that the cat won’t stop looking at him. It’s there in the afternoon while Gerard’s eating lunch; no matter how much food Gerard gives it, the cat is always staring at him. And it’s there in the evening, when Gerard shoos it away from his lap before he gets up from the couch to paint something before bed; the cat sits in front of the door to his office begging him to let it in.

Maybe Gerard is just going mad, since he’s at home the whole day and he isn’t really used to a second pair of eyes, but it’s kind of creeping him out. He can’t stare into the cat’s eyes without shuddering a bit, wondering what it has seen at its old owner’s home, what it’s capable of in the dark of night.

The next Saturday, the bell rings when Gerard is napping on the couch. He opens his eyes and, of course, the cat is lying down on the back of the couch looking down at him. It’s watching him sleep. If that isn’t creepy, he doesn’t know what is. Gerard is able to ignore it, but he diverts his eyes from the cat and gets up. Prada gives a long, whiny meow that makes Gerard stroll faster to the door. He can’t help his shudder either.

When he opens the door, he finds Frank smiling at him. The sun has set already and, with nothing but his porch light illuminating Frank’s face, Gerard realizes that he is impressively beautiful. He has big eyes and a wide smile, his jean jacket looks good on him and he has the most warming voice when he says, “Hello, Gerard.”

“Hello. What are you doing here?” He can be nice. He _can_.

“I was just, you know, sitting at home, wondering how you were doing with Prada, if she likes your place, if you’re treating her well…” Frank replies happily. However, Gerard notices that his smile fades a little when he frowns at Frank. Gerard shakes his head at himself for being so arrogant.

“Prada’s doing fine, actually. I might not be so sane, though.”

“She’s such a peaceful cat, don’t tell me she’s giving you that much trouble,” Frank says wittily, insisting on making conversation. He also shifts his weight to only one leg, like he means to relax and stay out here talking for a while.

“It’s just creepy,” Gerard says and at the same time, there’s a meow coming from behind him. Then he can feel Prada rubbing against his calves, this cat seriously loves his jeans, and looks down at it. The cat sits down next to him and puts one paw on his right Converse, staring up at him yet again. “It won’t stop looking at me, no matter what I do. And it’s creeping me out.”

Frank chuckles at him and Gerard frowns, not feeling comfortable with the fact that he’s being mocked. Frank says, “Look, no offense, but that’s just the way she is. She likes watching humans for some reason. Happened to me, happened to my mother; she’s just curious, don’t get her wrong.”

“Creepy.”

Frank chuckles again and okay, maybe Gerard takes a double look of his face. The skin around Frank’s eyes wrinkles when he smiles and it’s so natural that it’s remarkable. Gerard wishes he could pull it off like that. Then he’s interrupted by Frank, who says, “That’s nothing, though. Sometimes I’d be dining with my mom, and Prada would walk in with dead birds or lizards, straight to her corner in the kitchen and she’d munch on them. Always with those big eyes on us. _That_ is creepy.”

At first, Gerard doesn’t really believe him, but about two months later, by the time the first spring breezes start blowing, he finds out how wrong he was. Prada goes out as usual while the sun is setting in the horizon, but she doesn’t come back alone. She brings not only dead birds or lizards, but also dead _mice_ and Gerard would just really like to know when he got a notable hunter. He doesn’t remember.

One day, the bell rings and startles Gerard, who just yawns relaxingly and rolls his shoulders around to stretch the muscles. He must have fallen asleep when he lay down for a nap before dinner; he didn’t mean to. He just had a really long night in the office yesterday, feeling suddenly inspired to paint something new and stayed up late, so he just wanted to rest his head for a few minutes.

“Prada?” he calls the cat, opening his eyes. It doesn’t really respond to his callings, but when it’s home there never is so much silence. There’s always the purring, the sound of fur rubbing against the furniture or even the sound of tongue taming fur, but never absolute silence. Gerard hasn’t experienced any silence in weeks and he was getting used to the subtle noises.

Looking around, he doesn’t find Prada anywhere. It’s not on the back of the couch, the way it always is when he naps there and not by the fireplace either, and the fire is almost dead by the way. Then he remembers that he let the cat out before his nap, sitting up at last. He rubs at his eyes, and the bell rings again.

Strolling to the front door and opening it, he finds Frank smiling at him with a big, grey cat in his hands. “Hey, what are you doing with–”

“I found her munching on your neighbor’s flowers,” Frank says, showing off a grin like he’s excited about something.

“Do you really have to come here every goddamn week?” Gerard complains, but this time he shows Frank a smile too. It’s not _that bad_ to get visitors once in a while, after all. Gerard might not like people in general, but Frank has started to grow on him with his beautiful eyes and his constant worry over Prada’s well-being. He’s also a pretty sweet guy too.

The only really annoying thing about Frank is–

_Sneeze._

“Bless you,” Gerard says today while once he would have remained quiet. This time, he finds himself staring at Frank’s little smile when it appears on his face. Frank has certainly noticed how Gerard acts differently around him. These small moments are drawing him in; they’ve been enchanting Gerard week after week and he has even found himself dreaming about Frank and painting him. This isn’t normal.

“Thanks.” Frank chuckles when Gerard reaches out to take Prada out of his embrace. His allergies are starting to hit from the cat’s fur and Gerard doesn’t want to make it any worse. As he’s putting the cat down so it can go inside, Frank asks, “What is she doing outside at this hour anyway?”

“I fell asleep on the couch after letting it out,” Gerard admits with a sheepish smile, moving one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. He doesn’t really understand why it bothers him so much, but it feels like he’s sharing something very personal with Frank and he doesn’t even know why he’s sharing it.

He just knows that the next minute, he’s asking Frank to come inside and he’s making a pot of coffee for two. In the background, there’s only Prada meowing by the empty food bowl and Frank’s sneezes. Gerard smiles a little to himself, but it dissolves into nothing when he turns around to face Frank again. He’s wiping his nose on his sleeve and it’s both disgusting and charming.

“The thing is,” Gerard starts, opening the top cupboard to get two large mugs. He chooses his favorite one of black porcelain and an olive green one for Frank. It’s the color he identifies Frank with. Staring down at the mug and frowning at the ridiculous feelings he’s having over Frank at the moment, Gerard continues, “I don’t really understand why you keep coming back here if you know your allergies will blow your nose up.”

Frank cracks up laughing and the wrinkles around his eyes look better than ever. Gerard might have hated people once, but he has no fucking reason to keep hating on Frank now.

 

“I bought something for you,” Gerard says, turning around after he let Prada out for the day. He opens his sweetest smile, having grown too fond of smiling at Frank. He’s just too damn pretty. “I got you some Benadryl. At least, you’ll feel good enough to stay here for a few hours.”

“And why would I want to stay here for a few hours?” Frank grins and okay, he is admirably beautiful. Gerard can only grab his face and kiss the hell out of him.


End file.
